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by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bofur Constantly Rambling, Comfort, Dirty December, Dirty Talk, Edging, M/M, Some Body Insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt for Day 10 Dirty December: Bodyworship, Multiple orgasms/overstimulation/edging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close

**Author's Note:**

> 'Bout damn time I got to writing some Dwofur. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Bofur told a lot of stories. 

One of his favorites, and one often requested by the younger crowd, was the story of Dwalin Fundinson at the Battle of Azanulbizar. The famed and mohawked warrior was young but fierce in combat, wielding two massive war hammers and bristling in beard and muscle, fighting and roaring battle cries in the name of Thorin Oakenshield. Bofur had only ever seen Dwalin in passing, he was a hired guard and occasional mercenary, if the rumors were true, but he knew that he often caught Nori and the ring he was a part of in their crimes. 

Nevertheless, everyone admired Dwalin so Bofur told his stories. They would ask about his beard so he would say it was always well-groomed and thick. He would be asked about his strength and Bofur would claim he could split a tree stump with his bare hands. And his tattoos? He had many, and they were fierce and beautiful. 

Did Bofur know any of this for certain? Of course not. People believed him anyway, because Bofur was liked for his stories, true or not, and he was good at them.

So when Bofur had the chance to see it all for himself, he was quite pleased. 

He had anticipated this moment for months. One thing he had not expected was Dwalin’s modesty, always pulling Bofur’s hands away “until they had a proper bed,” as Erebor was awhile away yet. Now, after its reclamation and restoration, Thorin brought to his rightful title as well as Fíli and Kíli, they had a proper bed at last. Yet, Dwalin was adamant (and unexpectedly shy, Bofur guessed) about waiting. Not for sex, they had done that plenty of times, but for undressing completely. Bofur conceded, of course, for Dwalin’s wishes and his comfort. After a long night of teasing him at the pub, however, Dwalin practically tossed Bofur into his bed. Bofur always knew he had a fine arse, but it was nice to know he could tempt Dwalin with it. 

Now, when he’s got Dwalin on his back, belt loosened, Bofur takes his glorious time untrying the laces to his tunic. “So gentle now,” Dwalin teases, a toothy smirk pulling through his beard. “You were practically clawing at me as I carried you here.” 

“Aye, well, this tunic is fine, I must needs be careful,” Bofur winks and Dwalin snorts, letting his head fall back into the messy covers of the bed. At this angle Bofur can see the blush on Dwalin’s cheekbones, and the cords in his neck are too tempting not to taste, so he does. At Dwalin’s sight, Bofur sucks and nips just a little, moving nimble fingers down the ties until the can push the tunic apart. 

Straddling his powerful thighs, Bofur sits up and gazes at the beautiful expanse of Dwalin’s chest and torso himself. And, Durin’s name, he was gorgeous. 

Dwalin indeed had many tattoos, one massive piece spanning his chest and various shapes and knots, but the hair there was thick and curled, so it was hard to make out the exact shapes. His arms were tracked in many patterns as well, shoulders covered like pauldrons that extend over his upper back, but he’s laying down still so Bofur cannot observe them entirely. But the hair, it trailed down the rippling planes of his abdomen exceptionally, all soft brown with some grays here and there. It all stole Bofur’s breath away. While he was gawking, Dwalin pushes himself up to sit a little to shrug out of his tunic, watching Bofur as he does so, looking for a sign of something that he didn’t want to admit. 

“Wh…,” Bofur begins fruitlessly, letting his hands rest on Dwalin’s chest, carding his fingers through the curls. “Why have you been so nervous?”

“Those stories you used to tell,” Dwalin mumbles, a low vibration in his throat that Bofur can feel vestiges of in his collarbone. “I didn’t want to leave you disappointed.”

“D-disappointed?!” Bofur sputters, hands jumping in utter surprise on his pectorals. He trails his hands down to hold his thickly-muscled sides, perhaps more to steady himself in shock than to comfort Dwalin. When he looks at his warrior lover, he sees him curling in on himself, blue eyes soft and incredibly nervous for one who could roar in confidence in melee. “Oh, you,” Bofur sighs before kissing him soundly, moving his hands now to hold Dwalin’s jaw through his beard, stroking it a little as he knew he likes. Dwalin’s hands stroke along his bare back, rough in their own way and large, comforting and gentle in a way Bofur knew not how to explain. 

“I could never be disappointed in you,” Bofur says in the space between them, carding his fingers through Dwalin’s thick brown hair. “I only told those stories because I was asked, and they were all filled with my own fantasies, to be honest.”

“Your…?” Dwalin stutters, eyes widening a little and awe striking into his face and Bofur can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of him. 

He nods, knowing how red his cheeks must be. “Aye, ‘tis true. I’ve dreamed of you many times,” he admits, knowing that he must if Dwalin would ever believe him. “You’re still handsome to me now. You’ve always been.” Bofur holds Dwalin close, chest to chest yet he still feels small in his arms, and waits as Dwalin’s eyes roam his face, taking in his words in his own time. Slowly, a wide smile blooms on his face and the apprehension in his eyes melts to a vividly pleased blue. 

“You’re incredible,” Dwalin whispers, and kisses him. Bofur smiles into it, running his palms down Dwalin’s shoulders and over his upper back, marveling in all the scars and smooth skin. Before Dwalin could push him onto his back, as he surely will, Bofur pushes Dwalin back first. 

“You’ve done it to me before, now its my turn to give you uninterrupted attention,” Bofur drawls, holding onto Dwalin’s biceps as he leans forward over him. 

Dwalin laughs incredulously, raising his brows but his smirk still remains. “Well, get to it, then,” he goads in a serious voice, only to gasp and laugh in surprise when Bofur lowers his mouth to kiss along his collarbone. 

He takes his time, kissing along the weathered skin but no less appealing, and thumbs the bars through the warriors nipples. When his lips gets there, Dwalin absolutely moans, one hand sliding into Bofur’s loose hair and the other grips the sheets. Bofur gives each careful attention and care, looking up through his hair and lashes to see Dwalin watching him, only pushing him on further. Despite his grumbling, however, Bofur doesn’t hurry, planting heavy kisses along his abdomen and around his navel, stroking and caressing each jagged scar and the long-healed flesh, curious and sorry where each came from.

Dwalin’s achingly hard in his trousers by the time Bofur makes his way to his hips. He’s a horrible tease and he knows it but he slips the tips of his fingers into the trouser hem and pulls them down slowly, dropping light kisses to the trembling flesh above it. Dwalin’s hair is soft here, Bofur notes happily, nuzzling the sensitive skin at the meeting of inner thigh and hip, not yet exposing him but all the more eager to get the normally quiet and reserved warrior moaning beneath his grip. All in due time. 

Dwalin has been nagging him to hurry up the last ten minutes, but now when Bofur is so close to where he wants it he’s practically commanding him. “Bofur,” he grits heavily. “Enough of this! I-I can’t--!” 

Bofur relents a little by cupping him through his trousers and gently pressing, smirking when Dwalin moans and relaxes. “Aye, I hear you,” Bofur says too cheerily for Dwalin’s taste, nosing along the gathering patch of hair yet his trousers were not off yet. 

Bofur himself was excitedly anticipating the feel of his girth in his mouth and the taste of him flooding on his tongue, but he still wants to savor this. Much to Dwalin’s chagrin, Bofur moves his hand instead to another nipple, and he is met with the warmth of Bofur’s mouth on his. He kisses the miner hungrily, digging his fingers through his soft hair and rolling his hips upward into his thigh, and groans when Bofur presses back. On his hip he can feel Bofur’s harness and if that doesn’t send hot waves of arousal into his groin he’s not sure what will. But it does, and with Dwalin bursting from Bofur’s affection and attention, he wants nothing to more to share in the pleasure. 

Dwalin rolls Bofur over and holds him beneath him despite his sputtering protests, and shushes him by kissing him hard and deep, digging his hands down Bofur’s trousers to grip his arse. Bofur breaks the kiss to moan, throwing his head back and shifting his hips to prompt his trousers to move down further, but Dwalin spares him and takes them off in one swift motion. 

“Oh, shite, Dwalin, get the oil, please! I-it’s right there, yes!” Bofur rambles, reaching down to grip his cock, but when Dwalin gets the oil from the side table, he pulls his hand away. 

“If I was a revengeful Dwarf, I would make you wait,” Dwalin says as he dribbles some oil onto his fingers and Bofur scoffs. “But I am not. I want you prepared for me.”

“Good! Yes! O-oh,” Bofur grins excitedly, only for it to dwindle into a loose moan when Dwalin takes both his cock and delves a finger into him without preamble, knowing right where his spot would be. Stars burst behind his eyes as another reedy moan tears through him when Dwalin works him in tandem from inside and out. “Dwalin! Oh, Mahal, fuck!”

Dwalin grins at the quick mess he’s created in Bofur, writhing and panting and ever talkative, moaning expletives and nonsense. Soon he’s able to work another finger into him with how enthusiastic Bofur is swiveling his hips onto his hand, kneading his hands into the bed. 

“Sh-shite, Dwalin, I can’t—,” Bofur grits his teeth, pressing a fist into it as he bends his knees toward his chest. Dwalin doesn’t have a free hand so he uses his elbows to spread his thighs apart, catching the tell-tale spasming along his inner walls and the tightening of his stones that Bofur was about to peak. 

So, Dwalin withdraws his hands entirely, leaving Bofur empty and hot and surprised. Instead Dwalin strokes his thighs, admiring the sticky dribbles that leak onto the miners stomach now that he’s not stroking his cock, and also the glistening sheen between his cheeks. The hair that surrounds Bofur’s incredulous, flushed face is all a knot, tossed over the pillows like ink. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Bofur sputters and Dwalin can’t help from chuckling. 

“Admiring you,” he answer simply with a smirk but Bofur only rolls his eyes and halfheartedly swats his shoulder. 

“You can admire me with your hand on my cock,” Bofur retorts but doesn’t make the move himself and Dwalin outright laughs. He takes the time to catch his breath and gain back his head. “You’re going to drag this out, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Dwalin confirms, fingers light as he traces the crease of his hips. Once he’s sure Bofur won’t climax he slowly presses two fingers back inside, watching Bofur’s eyes slowly close and his back arch. “That’s it. Just like that,” Dwalin encourages, husky and low. 

“Ohh, Dwalin…,” Bofur languishes, lifting a hand with hooded eyes to softly stroke at his beard, and Dwalin’s heart lurches to the throat at the pure affection saturated in Bofur’s green eyes. He surges forward to kiss him and the miners arms immediately lift to curl around his shoulders and pull him closer, and Dwalin presses in a third finger. Bofur moans into his mouth and whines in that way that practically has Dwalin thrusting against his thigh in time with the rhythm of his fingers. 

“Dwalin, please, I want more, just your—,” Bofur mumbles against his lips, only he doesn’t need to continue because Dwalin shares his sentiments entirely. He hurriedly takes off his trousers, which unfortunately requires both hands, and Dwalin silences him with another kiss. He strokes more oil onto his length and presses Bofur’s knees back before guiding himself in. 

Bofur’s head presses into the sheets as his mouth gapes, lips red and swollen, and Dwalin’s breath stutters out of his chest in gasps as he presses in deeper. Bofur’s hands rest on Dwalin’s hips but his touch is ghost-light, melting into the bed as his lover fills him. Dwalin hooks Bofur’s legs around his arms so he can put his hands under the miner’s shoulders, and rests when his hips meet the back of Bofur’s thighs. He takes an obliging moment to enjoy his smaller, dark-haired lover bent beneath him, sighing as he takes his cock so wonderfully and beautifully, and watches as he opens his hazy eyes. 

“Much better,” Bofur says with a lopsided smile that Dwalin adores more than he would say. 

He withdraws only a little to heave back in slowly, nearly trembling with the delicious oil-slicked slide into his body, tight still even after his preparation but there is no pain on Bofur’s face, only that stupid smile. Bofur’s hands slide up his torso to grip his sides, then further upwards to his chest and his pierced nipples, and as he tugs and rubs them Dwalin breathes out half a moan. 

“So nice to have you fully naked as fuck me,” Bofur says sweetly, laughing when Dwalin raises his brows and thrusts into him a little more sharply than before. “I love touching you. All of you.”

Dwalin hides his blush into Bofur’s neck, playfully nipping the sensitive skin beneath his jaw as he finds an easy rhythm that isn’t too overwhelming but just enough to still savor the all-body tingles. “I still can’t believe—you would think—I would be disappointed,” Bofur whispers into the smooth skin of Dwalin’s tattooed head, lovingly weaving his hands through his hair and tracing fingers over his muscled back. “Even if you didn’t have—any tattoos—I’d still find you remarkable and—Oh! So handsome and kind if—if a little grouchy sometimes.”

Dwalin lifts his head, continuing the roll of his hips and gazes into Bofur’s flushed face, and he swears he’s never been so lucky in all his life. Using a hand, he brushes some hair out of Bofur’s face, twists his fingers through the curl of his mustache and kisses his cheeks several times in different places before tilting Bofur’s jaw to kiss him. He doesn’t need to say anything to convey how much it means to him to hear Bofur’s sentiments, feeling far more special than he ought to, he thinks, but Bofur has always been dreadfully honest. 

They remain in a place that is so, so good, full of warmth and affection, but not enough to fully lose themselves to sensation. Dwalin knows this and intentionally keeps it so despite the obvious hints from Bofur that he wants it harder and faster. The toothy grin he gives his miner is enough to make Bofur wiggle and twist to try if he can move Dwalin about, but of course he couldn’t. Dwalin was like a rock on top of him. 

He was certainly disappointed when Dwalin pushes himself onto his knees and lets Bofur’s legs fall onto the bed, but he’s glad that the kinks in his hips can finally loosen after being bent so strangely for so long. Dwalin slips out of him as a result and he groans at the loss, only to be flipped onto his stomach with hardly any of his own effort. Dwalin doesn’t waste any time in spreading him and dipping his mouth to his entrance, licking in long stripes through the oil and precome, and the change in sensation has Bofur moaning and sighing into his forearms. He presses his knees into the bed and shouts when Dwalin slips his tongue and finger into him, stroking the sensitive walls inside and prodding and massaging that particular spot. Bofur was back to groaning nonsense into the sheets he has pulled to him for pillows, pressing his arse further into Dwalin’s mouth and hands. 

“Fuck, Dwalin, you’re so good,” Bofur keens. “Stop, stop, I’m going to come if you don’t!” he says suddenly and Dwalin holds on his ministrations, too enthusiastic to notice the signs but he was glad Bofur stopped him, like he knew about the game he was playing. Bofur looks over his shoulder with a raised brow and smirks. “Aye, I know, and I can’t say that I mind. I like it, actually.” 

“You’re supposed to whine and moan each time I stop,” Dwalin says with only a small pout, kneading his knuckles into Bofur’s lower back. 

“Ohh, but every time it’s like we’ve restarted…,” Bofur sighs happily as Dwalin massages further up his back until he can reach his shoulders. He keeps kneading until he’s kneeling over him, cock still hard and dripping with pearly slickness from the tip, but he strokes it and adds some more oil just in case. 

He slips back inside Bofur so easily Dwalin groans, spreading his cheeks just to watch himself disappear into his body. At this angle he’s also able to stroke Bofur’s spot and its wonderfully obvious in the way the muscles in his back cord and jump as he raises his head and moans, as he tilts his arse up to meet each thrust, now more meaningful than the last. Dwalin snaps into him, gripping the miners hips to pull him back slightly each time. 

“Oh, Dwalin, yes! Mahal, harder, harder, please, shite!” Bofur moans and gasps endlessly, humming deep in his throat. 

Dwalin leans down and puts his hands into the bed, able to still thrust fast into him but he also reaches deeper. “Like this?” Dwalin’s voice is husky and thick when he whispers into Bofur’s ear. “Do you like it when I fuck you into the bed, hm? When I keep you from coming?” 

Whenever Dwalin decides to speak dirty it is the absolute best in Bofur’s mind, so the moan he lets loose is practically a shout, grinding alternatively into Dwalin’s thrusts and into the bed. “Y-yes, I do! Please, more, Dwalin, oh gods…,” 

“Are you close? I bet you’re ready to burst by now, aye?” Dwalin grunts, thoroughly enjoying the responses and reedy noises, thrusting hard enough to make the mattress creak in the bed frame. He mouths along the shell of Bofur’s ear and across both shoulders. 

“Yes! Damn it, I’m so close, Dwalin, hnnngggh,” Bofur pants helplessly and starts to let himself ascend that peak, only to be flipped over again without hardly a pause in Dwalin’s thrusts. 

“I want to see your face when you do. Go ahead, ghivashel,” Dwalin says roughly but it’s exactly what Bofur needs to push himself over. He spends himself over his stomach without a hand to help, and Dwalin shortly follows, hips stuttering only a little as he strokes his orgasm through to completion. 

Dwalin falls forward onto Bofur, both panting to catch their breath and sweaty besides the sticky mess between them and that which leaked out where they joined. Bofur absently strokes Dwalin’s head and hair while he gently tugs on his bone earring, laying in happy, contented silence. 

After long minutes, Bofur says, “That was good and dirty.”

Dwalin chuckles airily. “Aye,” he lifts his head to softly kiss his lips. “Thank you.”

Bofur smiles tiredly, and kisses him one more time.


End file.
